Cohabitation
by EnchantedApril
Summary: A little oneshot that may eventually turn into a series of shorts. House and Cameron have been together for almost a year... so what's next?
1. Chapter 1

_A little one-shot to hold people over while I work on S&S :) Eventually I may even make this the start of a little series of shorts._

COHABITATION

By Enchanted April

Cameron really hated newspapers. She hated the cheap feel of the paper, and the unwieldy size and the way the ink always left her fingertips black no matter how careful she was. She didn't even like doing the crossword puzzles in them and House had actually started printing them out from the internet and leaving them on her desk so that she wouldn't have to flip through the New York Times. Little things like that made up for a lot of unsaid 'I love you's'.

Over the past year, her little quirk had actually become quite well-known around the diagnostics department so it caught Wilson by surprise when he entered the office and found her with the Princeton Chronicle spread out on the table in front of her. She appeared to be deep in concentration and he walked quietly inside. He was directly behind her when he cleared his throat and caused her to fling the pen she'd been holding half-way across the room.

A year ago she probably would have blushed and apologized for her own clumsiness. Now she leaned back, saw who was hovering over her and rolled her eyes.

"If you're looking for Greg, he's down in the clinic… and in case you were wondering, you'd probably lose the best-friend title if you gave me a heart attack."

Wilson chuckled. She was probably right. He watched her try to determine where her pen had landed and then he pulled one of his own out of his lab coat pocket and handed it to her. She took it and smiled angelically up at him.

"You're not getting this back you know," she told him.

"Story of my life." He peered over her shoulder. 'What are you doing with the paper, anyway? Aren't you afraid the ink'll leech into your bloodstream or something?" Teasing her about her aversion to newsprint was an old joke, but still an amusing one.

"I'm looking for a new apartment," she answered, looking for the ad she'd been about to mark when her pen made its hasty departure from her hand. "My lease is up and my landlord has decided to turn my building into a co-op." She found and circled the ad and then glanced up at Wilson who was still staring at her. "What?" she asked, eyebrows drawing together. "Do I have ink smudges on my nose?"

He looked at her with a hint of confusion in his eyes, not sure exactly what to say. Oh, what the hell. House could pillory him for it later. "I was just wondering why you aren't just moving in with House," he admitted.

Cameron looked equal parts startled, amused and resigned. She shook her head lightly. "He doesn't even know I have to move," she admitted. "I figure I'll send him a change of address form," she continued with a small grin.

"Allison…"

"Our relationship is fine. It just requires some distance. It took me almost six months to get him to take me on a second date," she reminded him. "You think I'm going to push him into letting me move in?"

"But look how well that first push went," Wilson replied with a grin which he hid by taking a sip of coffee.

"Exactly why I'm not going to press my luck," Cameron joked before her expression turned more serious. "We're content, Wilson. That's more than I thought we'd get after that horrible first date. I could probably convince him to let me move in. It probably wouldn't even be very hard. He's always so logical that I could just woo him with the fact that it'd be cheaper, easier, and he'd be guaranteed more morning sex."

Wilson promptly choked on the coffee in his mouth. Cameron didn't even have the grace to look apologetic. In fact she smiled up at him rather smugly.

"You know, House probably wouldn't be too thrilled if you caused my death either," Wilson said once he could breathe properly. His voice still sounded a bit strained.

Cameron laughed. "Hey, I'm not the one who started this conversation."

"True," he acknowledged. "So when do you have to be out?" He decided to move away from the more sensitive subject.

"End of the month."

Wilson looked appropriately surprised. "What? He owes you at least ninety days notice."

Cameron shrugged. "I got the news four months ago." A wry smile tilted up one corner of her mouth. "I said I was content… I never said I wasn't a hopeless romantic." She shrugged. "A lot could have happened in four months."

"Like House suddenly declaring his undying love and begging you to run away with him?" Wilson's tone was teasing, but gentle, and his expression was one of sympathetic friendship.

"Something like that," Cameron replied, following her words with a little self-deprecating laugh. "Hey, I think I've got the undying love. The rest, I'm willing to wait for."

* * *

Two days later Wilson sat in his office filling in charts and listening to the radio. Unlike House, he didn't care much for modern electronics. He still had the ancient portable radio from his med school days, and it sat on the shelves behind his desk. It was still tuned to the same type of radio station he'd listened to back then. _Unchained Melody_ came through the speakers and Wilson paused in mid-word. House had played that song just the night before… a request from Cameron that House had first laughed off as being a typically sappy request, but had then played from memory.

Wilson had gone to House's place at close to nine o'clock. He'd been wasting time at the office before that but had gotten bored and still hadn't wanted to go home and face his wife. He knew it was already over between them and that he was just postponing the inevitable by avoiding her but he wasn't ready for the fight that would lead to the words 'I want a divorce' and so he just kept his distance instead.

Cameron had already been there, looking like she belonged there, in her casual clothes with her hair pulled back and her face freshly scrubbed. Barefooted and smiling, she was curled up on the sofa reading the most recent _New England Journal of Medicine. _It was a scene Wilson had witnessed many times but it always made him shake his head slightly and smile. House had given him a drink without bothering to ask why he was there, and had then gone back to the piano bench and his half-smoked cigar. Wilson had sat on the sofa across from Cameron, sipped at his scotch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

Almost an hour later, after a round of jazz tunes that segued into selections from Broadway musicals, Cameron had made her request. A playfully snide remark from House had been met with a sarcastic one from Cameron, and House had sighed, much aggrieved, and started playing the sentimental classic. Cameron had looked pleased and happy as she listened, eyes fixed on the graceful movements of House's fingers. Wilson had been more interested in the look on House's face. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen his best friend look so at peace.

The song on the radio ended and another, more upbeat selection started up. Wilson shook himself free of his memory and stood up. He might earn himself a cane across the shins, but he'd never claimed to be an innocent bystander.

* * *

"So, Cameron's looking for a new apartment," Wilson said without preamble as he entered House's office.

House looked up for a moment, surprise sweeping over his features. He quickly masked it by bending his head back to the handheld game he was about to win. "Oh," he said, feigning disinterest. "She knows better than to ask me to help her move."

Wilson dropped into the chair in the corner and laughed. "That's all you have to say about it? You don't find it strange that your girlfriend is moving and she didn't even tell you?"

House winced at the use of the word girlfriend but moved past it. "She's a big girl. She doesn't need my permission to move." Of course she didn't need his permission, but he was still somewhat taken aback by Wilson's announcement.

"It's all very hush-hush," Wilson went on. "You'd almost think she didn't want you to know."

The sounds emanating from the gameboy were the unmistakable sounds of on-screen death. House turned the machine off and turned to Wilson. "I'm assuming you have a point."

"She obviously hasn't told you anything because she doesn't want to look like she's pressuring you into anything. I, however, happen to know that cohabitation has never been a problem for you in the past. So the question is; why haven't you ever asked her to move in with you?"

"The king of divorces is trying to analyze my relationship?" House snapped.

Wilson barely felt the sting of house's words. "Two and a half divorces may not be a great track record for success but it gives me a certain insight into what doesn't work."

"Closer to two and three-quarters," House countered with a look that was more knowing than unkind.

"Closer to two and seven-eighths."

"Sorry," House said, and meant it.

"Don't be. We aren't talking about me. Let's get back to you."

"Let's not and say we did."

Wilson chuckled. "Well I hope it isn't the age thing that's keeping you from acting, because I'm pretty sure she's moved past the fifth-grade comeback."

"Har. Har. Har," House said very slowly, enunciating each word.

He expected Wilson to make some other little comment but the younger doctor just stared at him and tented his fingertips together, tapping them lightly. House rolled his eyes. Clearly getting rid of him wasn't going to be that easy.

"Maybe I'd rather not repeat some of my old mistakes."

"Mistakes? I didn't think Greg House made any mistakes," Wilson said sunnily.

House kept his sneer somewhat civil-looking.

"I hope you aren't talking about Stacy," Wilson said, pointedly.

"If the townhouse fits."

"Greg, Stacy moved in a week after your first date. I think you're about seventy-five weeks too late to repeat that particular mistake. Not to mention the fact that you had almost five years of cohabitational bliss before things went to hell."

"Ms Warner might have a different perspective on that," House said dryly.

Wilson raised one eyebrow in question.

"She said she was 'lonely'," House ground out.

Head cocked to one side; Wilson considered that complaint. "What does that have to do with Cameron, again?" he said after a moment's deliberation.

House's mouth formed a tight line, lips pressed together for a long minute. "I don't know," he finally spat out, "but it must mean something."

"Yes, it means you're an insecure, essentially good-hearted man in a gruff bastard's body. I saw you two together last night. Hell, I see you two together all the time. She's not lonely. She's happy. You're happier when you're together. You and Stacy were two people going through life shoulder to shoulder. You and Cameron are arm in arm. There's a difference."

House let out a little exasperated snort. "You should give up medicine and start writing greeting cards."

"Not a bad idea," Wilson agreed as he stood up. "Less money, but probably less annoying co-workers too." He gave another Cheshire Cat grin and left the office before House could fling a retort after him.

* * *

Friday and the end of a long and tedious week. The only patient to deserve whiteboard consideration had ended up being annoyingly simple to diagnose. Chase had guessed right immediately and within twelve hours the man was moved from ICU to the regular ward. He was due to be released in an hour.

Only one patient meant that the rest of the forty-hour workweek had been spent either in the clinic or hiding in his office avoiding the clinic. The only bright spots in the week were the few hours when Cameron had decided to hide out in his office with him. During the two days since Wilson's revelation he had attempted to drop a few hints about apartments and secrets and asshole landlords. Cameron hadn't taken the bait.

He didn't know whether to be irritated or relieved about that, but it didn't really matter. He'd already decided on a course of action. Scooping up the newspaper from his desk, he planted his cane firmly on the floor and levered himself out of his chair. Cameron had just returned to her office and he crossed through the connecting door just as she sat down at her computer.

"Here. I'm going to save you from a life on the streets," House said as he tossed the folded newspaper onto Cameron's desk.

It was folded in thirds with the columns of classified ads prominently showcased. One ad was circled in black marker. It was an ad for an apartment and Cameron stared at it and then switched her gaze to House.

"Wilson talked to you," she said with what she hoped was a disinterested air. "I knew I should have sworn him to secrecy." So this was how it was going to go. No actual talking about the subject, just talking around it until one of them finally took the plunge. Not the healthiest way to have a relationship but Cameron had become pretty used to their carefully choreographed routine.

Their first 'big talk' had been about her continuing to work in the Diagnostics Department. She'd joked about preferential treatment, he'd snarked about the bribery required for such treatment and after a few more barbs they'd settled down to discuss it seriously. She had argued that he'd treat her differently, but he'd countered that he hadn't done that so far, and he'd been in love with her since their non-date at the Monster Truck Rally. That near-shouted admission had left Cameron with a very smug grin on her face. She'd tossed an 'you were right, everybody does lie' at him, and sauntered off to the bedroom. He hadn't kept her waiting, and in the morning they'd finished their discussion and she'd agreed to stay through the end of her contract.

Since then they'd debated House's drinking (he'd agreed to cut down considerably), Cameron's insecurity around Stacy (she'd come to believe that it really was over between them) and a dozen other less-important decisions, and always they started off the same way; with snarkiness and bantering. If no one took it beyond that, then the matter was dropped for the time being. Cameron wasn't sure if she wanted to move beyond bantering this time. As much as she loved him, she didn't know if she could respect herself if she stayed with him after he admitted he had no intentions of committing to her. No. For the moment, it was better to stay happy and not to know for sure.

"I didn't know I needed a real estate agent," she said as she looked from the newspaper to him.

"You've got until the end of the month to get out of your place. I'd say you need something," House replied. "Now grab your jacket. I already called the guy and we can go take a look at it right now."

So that was it. She wasn't going to ask. He wasn't going to offer. The status quo would be maintained. Cameron sighed and picked up her pocketbook. Maybe she'd sign a short lease and let herself hope for a little while longer before pulling herself to her senses and moving on.

"So where is this wonder-apartment?" she asked as they made their way to the elevator.

"Located a convenient distance from both the hospital and my place," House assured her. "I've got the directions and it shouldn't take long to get there."

House insisted on driving but Cameron didn't mind. If forced she would admit that his sportscar was a major turn-on. The fact that they'd had sex on the hood in the middle of an abandoned football field probably had something to do with that. He pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber and took off towards the river.

"So where are the directions?" Cameron peered over at him, waiting for him to take them out of his jacket pocket.

"Right up here," he said slyly, tapping his head with one finger.

"This isn't going to be like the time we had eight o'clock reservations and showed up at the restaurant at nine, is it?" she teased.

House turned his head to glare at her and then turned back to the road. Cameron suppressed her laughter by pressing one fist against her mouth. Damn, she found it hard to be upset with him lately. Was it really that strange to keep separate households? Maybe they could start a new trend.

Twenty minutes later, Cameron looked over at House and smirked. "We're lost, aren't we," she stated, not even a hint of questioning in her voice.

"No we are not lost, Dr. Cameron. I know exactly where we are. I missed one street but I'm right back on track. We should be there any minute now."

"Uh-huh," she replied, unconvinced. "So who's the landlord anyway, and how can he afford to have the rent so cheap?" she asked.

"He seems like a crotchety bastard, but you'll probably get along with him. That does seem to be your type, after all," he quipped.

"And the rent? It's going for half what I've seen for other places."

"Yeah, well, there were a few conditions he mentioned," House turned left and headed down a residential street.

"Oh, here we go. House, have you arranged for me to rent from some peeping Tom psycho?"

"Maybe. You'll have to tell me."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Great. I hope you have to do my autopsy."

"Almost there," House commented as he took another left onto yet another fairly quiet street.

The street was lined with old townhouses and mature trees dotted the sidewalk here and there. Cameron looked around, taking notice for the first time. "This place must be really close to yours. Aren't we in the same neighborhood? Wait… That's…"

They had come in the back way, but now Cameron had oriented herself and she stared at House as he continued driving down the street. He pulled over a few blocks later and cut the engine.

"Yeah, one of the conditions is that the current occupant would like to continue living in the space. He promises that the snoring and toilet-seat flipping will be kept to a minimum, however," House said, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead.

"House."

"Mmm? You like the looks of the outside? Wanna take the tour?"

"House."

He finally turned and looked at her. "Whaddaya say? How's living in sin sound to you?"

Cameron swallowed hard, but there was no way she was going to cry. "Wilson put you up to this," she said.

"Oh fine, give him all the credit," House said with an exaggerated sigh.

"I didn't tell you I was moving because I didn't want you to feel like you had to invite me to live with you," she insisted.

"Remind me again how many times you've managed to pressure me into doing something against my will? And no, our first date doesn't count," he cut her off before she had a chance to speak.

"Admit it," Cameron said as she turned in her seat and tucked her left leg up, "this wasn't your idea. You're happy the way things are."

House reached into his pocket and pulled out a single key on a silver Princeton keyring. "Care to guess how long I've had this?" he said blandly.

Cameron stared at it and shrugged.

"Approximately ten months, two weeks and four days," he answered his own question.

"Approximately," she repeated, eyes softening into a tender look.

"Yes. I can't quite remember if I got it the Thursday or the Friday after our second date."

"But you never gave it to me," she said seriously, "and now you just expect me to accept it without even talking about it?"

"Sounds good to me," he said with a boyish carelessness that barely masked the tension underneath.

"Why didn't you ask me a long time ago? Why haven't we ever talked about this before?" Cameron pressed.

House dropped his hand, key and all, onto his lap and concentrated on the center of the steering wheel for a minute. When he met Cameron's eyes again there was no joking or teasing in his expression.

"I don't know why you avoided the subject," he said, "but I never asked before because I didn't think you'd say yes," he admitted reluctantly.

At first she thought he had to be joking but it only took one look in his eyes to convince her otherwise. He really had been worried. She closed the distance between them and wrapped one arm around his waist.

"So I guess you missed the fact that I've been loving every minute of our time together."

"So you love my annoying snoring, habit of keeping the toilet seat up and unspecified grumpiness?"

"Well, maybe not all of that, but I love the total package," she said with a grin.

"What about you? Why didn't you ever bring it up? Don't give me that crap about being afraid to push me into something."

Cameron rolled her eyes and sighed. "I guess I was afraid too. I knew how fast you invited Stacy to live with you. I guess I assumed if you hadn't asked me after six months, you were never going to." She glanced up at his stubble-coated jaw. "I didn't want to admit that I probably would have stayed with you anyway."

"Nah. You're stronger than that. You'd have found some young stud down in orthopedics or pediatrics to sweep you off your feet and give you what you deserve."

She smiled against his chambray covered chest. "I'm pretty sure I've got what I deserve already."

"Still want that tour?" House asked as he threaded his fingers through her long hair.

"Yeah. Let's start with the bedroom."


	2. Chapter 2

_Now, the first part of this story still stands completely fine on its own, but this is a short continuation that follows them into the townhouse and into the bedroom. It skates a thin line along the T/M rating, so please be advised. _

Part Two

Cameron used her new key to open the front door. She knew there was a wide, goofy smile on her face and she tried to stifle it, but her attempts to play it cool were all failing. House's hand covered hers on the doorknob and they entered the townhouse together.

"Please note the hardwood floors and original crown moldings," House intoned seriously.

"I can think of some other hard wood I'm interested in," Cameron quipped.

House's eyes snapped to full alertness. Double entendres weren't usually part of Cameron's vocabulary, and that had nearly been a triple. He hid his grin by turning to wave his arm towards the kitchen.

"The kitchen may appear somewhat small but it features a gas stove and a refrigerator that is always stocked with hummus and Sprite," House made a face as he rattled off the two things he would never be able to understand Cameron's affection for.

"You know, I think I have heard about this place," Cameron said with a play-thoughtful look. "The current occupant is known for his chicken florentine, isn't he?"

House smirked. "Yes, as a matter of fact he is and if you're a very good girl you may get some tonight."

Cameron sidled over to him and slipped her hand into his. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get some," Cameron surprised him again and winked. "So, what about that tour of the bedroom?"

"Wait right here," House said, indicating the living area. "The current occupant mentioned that he might not be completely decent when we arrived. I'll go check it out." One lecherous eyebrow rose as he smirked at her before turning to limp down the hall.

Cameron stood in the middle of the living room and started counting. This was turning out to be much more fun than she'd imagined when he'd tossed the paper on her desk and demanded that she follow him to the garage. She looked around the room, imagining where her things would fit. Ninety-nine, one-hundred. She'd decided to give him to the count of one-fifty before following him into the bedroom. If he wasn't naked by then he wasn't trying hard enough.

Her sofa might fit in the guest room, but her coffee and end-tables would have to go. No great loss; they were just run-of-the-mill standards from Ikea. She'd have to put her bedroom set in storage. Selling it was also a possibility, but she didn't want to be caught with nothing if things… She rolled her eyes at herself for imagining the demise of their relationship before she'd even moved in so much as a bookcase. House definitely didn't have the market cornered on cynicism. Cameron simply saved hers for her own life and chose to believe the best about other people and theirs. One forty-nine, one-fifty. She headed down the hall to the bedroom.

The door was closed and she grinned as she rested her hand on the doorknob, wondering what sort of mockingly 'come hither' look he'd be wearing, and if any clothing would be in evidence. She'd bought him a pair of smiley face boxers as an April Fool's joke. Maybe he'd finally be wearing them. She pushed the door open, ready for anything but what greeted her eyes.

The blinds were down, the curtains were drawn, and the room was almost completely dark except for the light that flickered from the candles that dotted every available surface. The bed was turned down, awaiting them, and House stood a few feet in front of her wearing dark green silk boxers and leaning on his cane. His expression wasn't mocking or teasing in the slightest. In fact she couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so relaxed and yet so serious at the same time. He pulled his left hand from behind his back and held out a rose that was such a dark red that it bordered on black.

"Welcome home."

Now she was going to cry.

Gregory House was not romantic. His normal idea of appropriate attentiveness centered around keeping clean towels in the bathroom, clean sheets on the bed and her favorite CD in the 12-disk changer in his car. There had been only a few moments were sentimentality had slipped in. The corsage on their first disastrous date. Thirty-three pink roses on her doorstep the morning of her birthday. A completely cheesy Valentine's Day card that he'd actually signed 'Love, Greg'. None of those little slips had prepared Cameron for this.

House stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "The crying isn't supposed to happen until after the sex," he teased gently.

She pulled back and kissed him then, not hard or demanding, but with a sort of force that defied definition. She marked her place in his life and his in hers, their togetherness encapsulated in the feelings behind a single kiss. House willingly responded to her lips and tongue, cane and rose dropping to the floor as he gripped her tighter. One hand was on her hip, the other at the center of her back, trapping her against his body as if she had the slightest intention of leaving. Cameron tightened her hold around his neck. Not bloody likely.

Their first time together had been a lot like that first unfortunate date. It had been awkward and clumsy with a certain painful sweetness. They'd been eager and half-drunk, pulling at each other's clothing and both promising that of course they were ready. Rough touches and teeth hitting together and rushing, rushing to feel more. More skin, more sensation, more heat. It had been a long time for both of them and the mechanics of it all were well-remembered but rusty as pain knifed through a ruined leg and long hair caught around a heavy wristwatch. She'd been too tight and he'd been too big and he'd climaxed ten seconds after entering her, leaving her sore and unfulfilled. His always-skilled fingers had ended up finishing the job and then they'd lain there staring at one another until Cameron had finally settled her head against his shoulder and they'd fallen asleep. It was a testament to their stubbornness that they'd refused to let their first time be their last time.

Now, ten months later, so much had changed. They knew every inch of each other's bodies and there was never a reason to rush unless they were trying for a quickie before work.

House moved backwards until his legs hit the side of the bed. His hands never left Cameron's body and his mouth never left her lips. She let out a little breathy sigh and started to kiss down his jaw towards his throat and House groaned. He sat down heavily on the bed and dragged his rough cheek along the cotton blouse that covered her belly. He could feel her heat through it but it wasn't enough; not by half. Large hands tugged and pulled until the fabric slipped free from the waistband of her skirt. He was about to yank the two sides of it apart and send buttons flying, but her smaller hands covered his and she bent and kissed the top of his head.

"Very macho," she said lowly, "but I paid eighty dollars for this blouse last week." Her nimble fingers undid the buttons and she shrugged it off as he pulled her close and kissed the soft skin, newly revealed. His tongue poked out to swirl around her belly-button and she trembled and whimpered, feeling her knees grow weak. House hooked his arms around her, forearms supporting her bottom, flexing against soft flesh and pulling her even closer until she was standing between his spread legs, her shins pressing against the mattress.

House raised his face and Cameron knew what he wanted and deftly reached behind herself to undo the clasp of her bra. Pale skin, glowed in the candlelight and Cameron threw her head back, baring the long column of her throat and looking like an image of some goddess thrust up from the sea. Venus the way Botticelli never dared to paint her. Ten months had erased her modesty and restraint.

As his lips moved across her skin, Cameron moved her hands to his shoulders, kneading the muscles there before sliding to the back of his neck and into his lightly curled hair. She loved the feel of it sliding through her fingers, fine and soft and exactly the way the rest of him wasn't.

The pressure against her thighs lessened and she felt House unbuttoning and then unzipping her skirt. She gave a slight shake of her hips and sent the navy linen sliding to the floor. House placed a kiss at the juncture of her legs, breathing her in through nylon and lace.

"If you don't want these ruined, you'd better take them off," he said huskily, rubbing callused fingers over silk.

Cameron pulled herself together enough to step back, and House pushed himself onto the bed fully. He watched as she shimmed out of her stockings, pulling down her underwear with them. She sent them flying towards the laundry basket in the corner. Two-points. She smiled smugly.

"You shoulda been in the women's NBA," House said, eyes never leaving her naked body.

"But then I wouldn't be here," she said, cocking her head and letting her hair fall in front of one eye.

"You're right. Bad idea. In fact, you're too far away already. Get over here."

A slow sway of her hips and a toss of her hair, and then she was climbing onto the bed, kissing House's chest as she made her way towards the pillows. She looked in his eyes, with candlelight reflecting in their depths, and wound her arms around his shoulders.

"For a man who thought I'd say no, you sure were prepared," she said quietly.

"Yeah. I guess there's some hope left in me after all," he said as he leaned up to capture her lips. "Don't tell Wilson. He'll never let me live it down."

"Don't worry," Cameron murmured, stifling a gasp as his lips marked a path to her ear. "I like to keep this side of you my little secret."

House growled deep in his chest and rolled over, the action well-practiced and perfected now.

"Little secret?" he said pointedly.

She chuckled. "Maybe not quite so little," she agreed, her hands eager to touch him.

Within minutes he was teasing her mercilessly, sensations rolling over her in waves. She knew she was close and she laid a hand against the side of his face, making him look up into her eyes. She wanted them to be together.

He looked down and locked eyes with her. The darkness of there matched his own, he was sure, and he crushed his mouth to hers as passion flared bright between them, their bodies following the rhythm of a primitive dance. They maintained their possessive kiss until House had to pull his mouth from hers in order to suck in enough air to call out her name.

Strong legs latched around firm hips and Cameron arched up into her release as she felt House fall over the edge. She didn't scream. She didn't even shout. Her eyes focused on his and she whispered the same three words over and over again.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Throbbing turned to pulsing and then to warm, sticky satiation, and House moved from between Cameron's legs to keep from crushing her. She lay limp and motionless beside him and he grinned, something that he only seemed to do in her presence. His leg ached but he climbed out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth. Gradually Cameron floated back to her senses as he ran the cloth over her still-sensitive skin and then threw it towards the corner. Another two-points. He nodded in satisfaction and pulled Cameron to his side of the bed, away from the dampness and into his arms.

She smiled sleepily and kissed the arm that was draped over her shoulders. "Nothing says love like cleaning up after sex," she quipped.

House chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

Love. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

"You know, that was the first time you've ever said you love me," he stated, the sound of her repeated words still running through his mind.

It was true. He wasn't exactly known for heart-felt revelations, but in ten months he'd told her he loved her half a dozen times. She had never echoed the sentiment, hiding behind 'me too' or a cheeky 'I know', instead.

"I don't move in with people I don't love," she said quietly, "but I guess I've gotten a little cautious about blurting out my feelings."

House kissed her shoulder, stubble rasping against tender skin. He knew where that caution came from. "Throwing caution to the wind?" he asked, serious beneath the light tone.

Cameron brought his strong right hand to her lips and brushed her lips over the knuckles. "Completely."


End file.
